My mom and I are easily the most different people that exist on this planet. In her house everything has a place and that item is always in it. In mine? I basically gather all of my belonging in my arms, spin around while tossing them in the air and go 'wheeee'. She's quiet, I don't shut up. She's a mildly uptight banker and I make things pretty for a living and then go to the acupuncturist. She wants order and cleanliness at all times and I, well, I want a monkey. You catch my drift. One thing about her however rubbed off. That one thing is that fact that today, November 12th, I finished my Christmas shopping.
And I am behind schedule.
In fact around 10AM when I realized the date I had a panic attack realizing that I still had 3 people left to shop for. Let's just say that the crazy has reached new, epic levels. So I utilized my greatest skill in life, internet shopping, and got to work. Within an hour I was done, all shades of proud. When I called my mom on my way home to brag that I finished it up, she remarked that she has been done since the end of September. Bitch. Next year I start in June.
Now excuse me, I need to go put on a tiara as I am already in my pajama pants and this outfit is missing something.